


Beard Burn

by thesinbin



Series: Ash's Adventures [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Black!Reader - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9037451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesinbin/pseuds/thesinbin
Summary: This was not the training room's intended purpose. It was the beard's fault.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thebearking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebearking/gifts).



Kai sat pleasantly, eyes watching you interact with Steve. Today was the third consecutive day he’d forgotten to shave the stubble that lined his jaw, five o’clock shadow overpowering the smoothness of his jaw. They grinned, watching you place a fleeting touch to the side of his face, fingers trailing at his jawline. Oh, they were going to have fun with this.

You waltzed down the hall, fully prepared to have Nat kick your ass for the second time this week. Steve placed himself on the seat next to the smugly-grinning telepath, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You seem to be having a delightful morning,” he ventured cautiously.

Kai sipped a coffee so pale Steve wondered how it actually contained caffeine at all. “Oh, I tuned in to a rather interesting station just now,” they replied. They gave the Steve the once-over and tapped their temple. Steve narrowed his eyes. “If I were you,” they said, taking a long sip and releasing a semi-contented sigh, “I may be inclined to grow that beard out.”

“Why?” Kai gave a grin.

“Let’s just say Ash has an interest in seeing you have one.” Kai’s grin widened. “I’m rooting for you.” The tall man didn’t have time to respond as Kai’s form retreated down the hall.

Today was most definitely not your day. Steve was constantly distracting you, and the worst part was that it wasn’t even conscious on his part. Kai had teasingly said your “Stevie Senses” were uncannily accurate, leaving you to wonder if they were really teasing you at all. All the blond had to do was step into the room and your attention instantly zeroed in on him with all the accuracy of Clint’s arrows.

Something was very, very different. You’d spilt water all over yourself trying to figure out what had changed. It was almost as if he’d changed his very face—no, that couldn’t be right. People don’t just change their faces—unless they were Kai, but that was a very different matter—you shook your head. As you walked over to Steve’s position at the end of the couch, you toes slammed into the edge of the ottoman. Low curses dropped from your mouth. “Language!” Kai shrieked from two rooms away. “You’ll upset the Steve!” Steve promptly laughed.

You send a strong image of unsavory images toward Kai. “What’s got you all distracted?” Steve asked cheerfully. You could smell his coffee wafting through the air.

“Your face is different,” you blurted. Instantly, your cheeks heating as you realized the implication of your words.

“Different good or different bad?” Steve replied.

“Good, definitely good!” you said quickly, your hair starting to smoke with embarrassment. “But I’m not entirely sure why?” Kai could be heard snickering. Whether it was at you or at something else, you didn’t want to know. You exited the room quickly.

It took you a minute. Steve had barged during your sparring session, sweat dripping down his face, chatting a mile a minute with Bucky, when you’d noticed it—the beard that cloaked his jaw. Hell, you thought it could very well deserve its own title. The Beard. Goddamn, was it fine.

Perhaps it was something in your stare—Steve’s attention had been captured, and with a few words, Bucky was dismissed. You glanced back at where Nat had been to find she’d vanished. You silently praised her. “I think I’ve figured it out,” you said slowly, lips twisting into a grin.

“Yeah?” You walked confidently up toward him, grabbed his jaw, and tugged it down to your level.

“That beard is the epitome of sin,” you said against his lips. Steve grinned, a rumbling laugh rising in his chest. “I guess I better punish you for it.”

“As you see fit,” he replied teasingly, allowing you to slip sweat-slick cloth over his head. Your lips split into a sultry smile. There was a few heartbeats of stillness and silence before Steve’s mouth crashed against yours. He tugged off the loose muscle shirt you wore, tossing it toward an unknown corner of the room.

“FRIDAY,” Steve gasped, “make sure nobody comes in.”

“As you wish, Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY replied.

“Scared, Cap?” you teased, your mouth leaving a trail of gentle bites down his chest. Steve gave a low groan.

“Anything, but,” he hissed, tugging at your shorts. You deftly rid yourself of them. Your hands fumbled with Steve’s shorts, nudging them further down until Steve could step out with ease. His length strained against the fabric of his boxers.

“Eager, then,” you whispered playfully, arms going up as nimble fingers pried your sports bra from your skin. Steve nipped at your neck in response, gently pushing you toward the floor. As your back hit the matted floor, Steve was already sliding your underwear down with uncanny smoothness.

Your fingers clutched his hair as he placed an experimental kiss on the inside of your thigh. His beard rasped dangerously against your skin. “Is this a good idea?” he asked pulling back. You blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“The beard, I mean. Won’t it burn you?” Steve said, hesitance caking his words. You squirmed.

“Yeah, so?”

“Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Well—” You flushed. “It’s a good burn.” Steve blinked a few times before offering a predatory grin.

“Well, Inferno,” Steve said. “What’ll it be?”

“Eat me out,” you said. “That’s an order, Captain.” Steve held eye contact with you as he went back down. Steve’s beard was rough as it grazed your inner thighs, a harsh rub that complimented the ministrations of his tongue and mouth well. His hands kept your thighs spread, tongue circling your clit teasingly before getting to work. The friction of his beard was almost a relief.

Your hands knotted in his hair, Steve groaned at the tugs you gave his hair. Your breaths were ragged, chest heaving at the wonders Steve’s tongue did at your core. A hand slipped down your thigh before losing contact with you. You almost didn’t notice as they prodded at your entrance. You gave a gasp as one finger entered, a slow movement. Your thighs squeezed Steve’s head; the rasp of his beard intensified.

As quickly as Steve’s movements began, it came to a sudden end, your climax arriving with shocking speed at the prodding of two fingers. Your thighs squeezed, hips rising from the floor, grating against his jaw—a sigh escaped you.

“What’s next?” Steve said teasingly, a grin spreading across his face as he licked off his fingers. As you recovered your breath, you sat upright.

“Lay back,” you said lightly. Your legs were still wobbly as you crawled over toward him. A large spot was growing on the front of his boxers. “Naughty boy,” you whispered, licking a long strip up the front. His cock twitched beneath you. “Can you give me one more?” Steve nodded, black consuming the blue of his eyes.

You kept crawling forward, Steve’s hands running up and down the length of your body. Your hips canted over his mouth. As he nodded, you allowed your weight to rest on him. You shuddered at the pressure of his tongue against your entrance, the slow prod of it before he traced a stripe up toward your clit. He was gentle at first, allowing you time to become less sensitive from your last orgasm.

Steve’s grip on your hips was sudden and firm. He pressed you down hard against him, his tongue entering and exiting you at a cruel pace, lapping as if to taste all of you. A low groan sent you shuddering, grinding down on his face. His tongue returned to your clit. You gave a sharp gasp—you were still a little oversensitive, but it was more pleasurable than painful. Your hips ground against him forcefully.

Steve gave a few low hums, sending vibrations through you as he traced indiscernible shapes against you. A keen escaped you at one in particular—a mistake, you thought briefly, as he began to repeat it. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you came after that, a throaty moan spilling past your lips. Steve shuddered beneath you, his voice muffled. You leaned back, weight on his chest. Steve’s face was flushed.

“Did I choke you?” you asked, concern lacing your voice. Steve shook his head.

“Far from it,” he said hoarsely. You looked back—his cock twitched visibly against his boxers, the spot of moisture having spread wider.

“Having a good time, then?” you turned around, baring yourself, before leaning over and prying his underwear. A sticky string connected the fabric to his skin.

“Yes,” he squeaked, hands grasping your thighs as you leaned down and placed his cock in your mouth. He gave a breathless gasp as you hummed, licking his skin clean.

“Good as new,” you sang. “Again?” You turned and winked at your boyfriend to see him tug your hips down forcefully and run his tongue over your core. A whimper escaped you before you leaned down once more to take his length in.

Steve gave a throaty moan as the heat of your mouth enclosed him. Your breasts pressed against his stomach, rubbing slightly against his skin as you moved up and down.

Steve lapped at you like there was no tomorrow. His eagerness, even after two rounds, sent a trill of pleasure through you. His cock appeared to agree—it pulsed in your mouth as if your pleasure was its. Steve’s beard still rasped at your thighs, nearly overpowering the strong motions of his tongue that paralyzed your hips. A whimper, a moan, and you slipped over the edge for the third time. If you were going to cum, so was he, you decided. Steve, apparently, had a similar idea—another strong suck, your nails trailing teasingly afterward, and Steve cried out.

“Y-You don’t—” you allowed his release in your mouth, milking the last of his orgasm out before swallowing quickly. You wrinkled your nose briefly at the bitter taste before rolling off. “Babe, you didn’t have to—”

“I chose to,” you stated primly. “Please tell me you can walk.” Steve sat up, raising an eyebrow.

“Did someone play a little too hard?” he teased. You huffed. “I’ll get your clothes.”

“Thanks, Steve.” His laughter sent your cheeks flaming. "I blame the fucking beard."


End file.
